Who Would Have Guessed?
by A Shadow's Lament
Summary: Chrom: Fearless leader? Sure. An inspiring General. Yep. Good for having a snowball fight with? You bet cha. But a Prince? One of grace, suaveness and charm? Yeah right, about as much a prince as Robin is secretly the vessel of a maleficent dragon… Rated high T for swearing, adult situations and the mention of zesty goodness.


**Greetings all readers of this slightly mad one-shot. I say mad, because alongside the wonderful bought of inspiration, so too, was the dose of craziness. So, as you may have garnered - this story is not be taken entirely seriously. 15,000 words of plot-less babble... (I have no regrets, haha.)**

**Relief from work was needed: writing this granted that. As for the attempt of 1st person for Robin. Meh… Let's call it a creative experiment. Note however that I can never quite write 1st person without it becoming stilted or too witty. Considering I think the avatar has a bit of spunk to her, I chose the latter. (Perhaps rather unwisely... Oh well.) It is rated high T due to the language and mention of adult situations, but if I boosted it up to M, I believe that would just instil certain expectations that wont be met here. **

**Also, I may have decided to flip the supports ever so slightly between Robin and Chrom. It's forever our beloved prince being an adorable dork, so I made Robin one instead. (Not quite sure about the adorable part mind…) Reason for that? Honestly, it's just hilarious picturing the usually calm and collected tactician blushing like a ninny.**

**Hopefully this brings a smile to your face if nothing else.**

_**As always, Fire Emblem Awakening and that is associated is of no claim to me. I simply enjoy making characters dance to my merry little tunes.**_

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**_Who Would Have Guessed?_**

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Memory – the way by which the mind stores the information it has been presented with. The schemas, stratagems and algorithms that grant understanding and comprehension. Imbibed and assimilated primarily in childhood – observation, imitation, self-learning and so forth - and expanded and detailed in adulthood. Presumably, it is those are what give me the skills of walking and talking, reading and writing – skills I clearly own but have no recollection of learning. Maybe they're also why the pages in my Grimoire covered with script that isn't my own fills me with a yearning for a woman, but oddly whose face I can't remember. Why I seem to hold such a hatred towards Plegia, but when asked, I couldn't give you a reason different than what has been provided by many others.

I sigh, tracing the definition of memory. I blame Miriel for this and her extensive observations and studies into how much I actually remember. Those few, insubstantial words coupled with her scientific rigour have only deepened my curiosity of the workings of memory, rather than be the answer I was looking for. Someone must have taught me the skills I possess now such as coming to wield a sword by first training with a quarterstaff. Told me those snippets of information such as recognising poison oak and deadly nightshade from other innocuous looking plants. How to recognise a c_ansos_ from a _fabliaux_ simply by their accompanying music, both of which make me long for certain days, even if I'm not sure what exactly those days were. How I am able to spark thunder from my fingertips and create strategies that succeed in bringing us victory.

And why the hell I seem to know what the paradigm of royalty entails.

The fine manners, endless grace and a rapier mind. Being tutored in languages, grammar, logic and rhetoric. Females who are expert in being demure, embroidering silk handkerchiefs (I'd given Maribelle the shock of her life when I'd admitted to my knowledge of that), know how to pour wine elegantly and disguise her feelings from seeing eyes. And for the males; the art of courtoise – how a man should correctly present himself in every situation.

A lesson that, much to his claims he did have, Chrom clearly missed out on.

Even the books from Sumia, with their ridiculous embellishments and false portrayals of love (they make it sound so simple and sweet and uncomplicated – pah ha ha, I doubt real life is that effortless) are aligned with my preconceived images of a royal prince. Lissa could be removed from my musings simply because she is young and thereby allotted some leniency. I don't imagine I was exactly the picture of perfectness at fifteen either. But as for her brother! Nearing twenty and as much an ignoramus as a pre-adolescent child, which is an insult to the hypothetical child!

I drum my fingers on the table, my chin cupped by my other hand. It's anyone's guess as to why I even own a schema regarding royalty – I'm by no means the prime reference – but regardless Chrom doesn't fit to it.

Emmeryn is… _was_… the perfect example; her countenance rivalling that of how I hear Naga be described. She had carried the patina of a woman with unfathomable wisdom, limitless grace and clear power – not heard in her voice but easily present in the tilt of her head and angle of her shoulders.

And then we have Chrom.

A blabbering, sometimes mindless, fool who so senselessly wandered into the woman's bathing tent. A man far from being daft – he is not only a prince, but a knight and a general too – how can it be that he is at times so utterly hopeless? Doesn't steam scented with lavender immediately equate to having originated from a bath? I think I'd rather he'd admitted to wishing to see me unclothed rather than his nonsensical babble. Steam, a result from a mispronounced spell? Sure, Chrom. Suuuuure.

Far from their idle drumming, it's only when I catch sight of it that I realise what my fingers are tracing. Neither Chrom nor anyone else shall ever know about this poster; as far as they believe, I'd burnt it at the first opportune moment, not stash it away for my eyes alone. The only thing missing from the sketch is the rivulets of water or else I may well be relieving my own "blunder into the wrong tent".

Again, another thing that no-one needs to know about. Absentmindedly, I follow the line of Falchion on the parchment, and much though I'm relieved at the position, I'm just a _little_ annoyed at _how_ conveniently it's placed.

How odd though that if I switch my mind to Gaius and my unfortunate incidence of walking on him clad in his undergarments, nothing more my curiosity piques. Maybe it's just blue-haired guys that cause me to stir?

"Gods, get your head out of the gutter," I scold myself, deterring my train of thought before it descends into anything further than simple admiration.

With such a repertoire of untapped knowledge lost in my memory, would it not stand to reason that one such iota would be of the male anatomy and certain... variances to what textbooks and rough explanation teach? It's not my fault Chrom looks good wet. And well… It's more than a brand Naga blessed that man with.

I drop my head into my hands then, unable to cease the glorious image of Chrom looking far better than how the artist has portrayed him. No, no, no. Back to the books. Wonderful, rational books on strategy, law, politics and everything that can help me help Chrom.

Opening the tome on the seventh referendum that denotes moral laws initiated by Ylisse regarding Plegia, the importance is unfathomable but still I ink notes. One last battle and Chrom will be crowned King. A title not only weighed by its own importance, but burdened with the expectations left by Emmeryn's reign. I sigh again, my irreverence causing my guilt to swell for mocking him. The poor man's being run ragged with his new responsibilities as the next in line for the throne.

Upon returning to Ylisstol for short periods, I had hoped a familiar territory would be comforting to Chrom. Trammelled with duties, legislations, requests, and so forth, the palace had unfortunately been far from a welcome home. Not even my assistance of tackling citizen's complaints, partitioning areas of the town for safe havens and designing plans for using the royal treasury sufficiently had given much aid to Chrom, nor had it quelled my urge to see him. It had been remarkable just how much I had missed his daily presence when abruptly, it had vanished into weekly absences.

Even now, returned to the great outdoors, if Chrom wasn't throwing himself into training to defeat the Mad King, he was brushing up on court law and politics, delivering his own ideas for the plan of attack to me via Frederick, or collapsed in his tent in a sleep induced from pure exhaustion.

"He's going to make himself ill if he continues on this way," I mutter, knowing fine well that I can't do much more to help. Without Chrom at my side, my own doubts begin to creep in. Not that I need him holding my hand, but a little reassurance is tactically advantageous. I've studied that many theories, I'm probably whispering theologises in my sleep. The map of Plegia is so laden with notes, stitched in additions unearthed from books, areas circled with red ink or raised to mimic the natural terrain, it's nigh on impossible to see the original parchment. On the sides lay the scouts reports, the scripts from meteorologists and – I smile as my eyes find it – the small note from Chrom:

_"Don't overwork yourself too hard – a catatonic tactician is not a helpful one."_

My smile becomes a frown. "That's all fine and well, Chrom, but you need a dose of your own advice."

The light in the lamp flickers, making the shadows dance wildly around the inside of the command tent. Outside, the chatter of the Shepherds is a welcome sound as the shift changes for night guard. We're set to depart tomorrow to the village of Granitsy – a small place which lays between Regna Ferox and Plegia. It's the last stop we'll be in before entering the enemy territory. Unwillingly for anyone to suffer exhaustion on the road, I assigned three-hourly changes. This now being the second change I've heard, I realise I'm way past my bedtime.

As if to reinforce that point, I yawn. Maybe it's a bit late to grab a cuppa, but I need something warm to get me to sleep.

Beyond the warmth of a tent, the night air is cold and crisp – the downside to camping in the coldest region. It's a tactical bonus mind, so I'll bear the cold for the sake of less potential ambushes. To my immense gratitude, when I enter the mess tent, I find the kettle placed over the indoor fire and the tea inside brewing nicely. Bless the Gods for Maribelle and her obsession with the stuff.

Pouring myself a cup, I pause for a moment and soon grab another, adding lashings of milk and a sugar as I do with my own. I don't consider it a good thing that I know how he takes his tea from how many times I've paid a visit to him late at night.

Long having dismissed the posted sentries that had stood watch outside his tent for worry of them serving as an attraction rather than protection, it is only the marginal size difference that marks Chrom's tent different to the rest. That and the fact it glows slightly; illuminated from within. It's no surprise but still I mentally scold him all the same. Ignoring my own hypocrisy, I call out to him.

I know he's in there, so I repeat his name and poke my head in, taking a quick sweep of the interior and its occupant. Feet up on the desk and slouched in his chair like some common rapscallion, I tut slightly thinking him rather undignified. Yet I smile as I take in his relaxed position and the look of immeasurable thought on his face.

"Hey," I call out and checking there's no-one nearby, I enter his tent fully. I've had enough sly comments from Lissa and Vaike regarding Chrom and I's late night meetings to make me wary. Even with cups of tea and the clear intent of drinking them, trying to explain that to idiots who are rooting for a marriage or something altogether more scandalous is exhausting. Vaike's words of wisdom had the outcome of Chrom's exhaustion being, rather than a one of vigorous study, a result of great all-night-long sex. Aside from being baffled at how Vaike could even distinguish between two types of exhaustion, there was also the wonder of how he could tell if it had been bad, good, or 'great' sex.

Of course, musing over the inner workings of Vaike's mind was probably on par with solving one of Miriel's riddles. Though, gods, I could reason with myself that envisioning a marriage was normal – half the female population was besotted with Chrom, thereby making my own daydreams inconsequential. But as for considering very specific images involving Chrom, myself and the word 'great', well, how does one go about rationalising that?

"Alina," Chrom says with a jolt, quickly placing his feet back onto the ground. The book in his hand is slammed shut and thrown face down beside him. I glance at it and the man oddly, finding nothing remarkable about the book and frowning. What in Ylisse was he reading?

Chrom follows my gaze and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, but as I go to open my mouth, his eyes narrow, likely guessing what I had come to initially say. "You should be asleep too."

I shake my head, my eyes moving away from the book. "Don't you know tacticians are granted the wonder of not requiring sleep as often as others?"

Chrom raises a brow and stands to accept the cup I offer to him. "Is that so?" he says, taking a sip of tea and instantly looking better for it. Tea – the miracle cure for almost everything.

He places the cup down and pulls out a seat for me, gesturing for me to sit before returning to his own chair. I tilt my head in way of thanks and shrug at his previous conjecture as if it's obvious. "It's the irrefutable truth. I'm just incredible."

I mean it in jest, but Chrom stills and clears his throat awkwardly. Even in the orange hue from the lamps, the colour to his face is apparent and given the nervous flit to his eyes, so too are the accompanying thoughts.

I take a sip of my tea, and almost gag as I wonder just how the word 'incredible' has stirred certain thoughts in his head. Is he honestly thinking of me naked, right now, with me less than a foot from him? How bloody rude… and slightly surreal. Maybe a thanks to Freddy and his pedantic natures towards fitness is in order. I take another gulp of tea, muffling my giggle. Incredible. Ha ha haa.

In all actual seriousness though, I'd have thought Chrom long past those incidents now. (I choose to ignore the unbidden images that swarm into my head; he saw me naked several moons past, I deliberately blundered onto him in only a sennight gone.) Still, I suppose from his absconding when I came near, my inability to look at him, his muttered words and my awkward laughs, we have made considerable progression. I doubt complete ease will ever be achieved mind given the nature of our working relationship and how often something will trigger those images. More oft then not, I imagine our theoretical daughter and when her curiosity prompts the inquiry of how he met me, it won't be that field that comes to mind, but rather me all soapy and sudsy and - good grief! What am I thinking?!

I shake my head subtly, hoping the actions clears my thoughts. If playing absence with my bed is the influencing factor here, clearly I need to get myself to sleep. Of course, if lack of sleep is indeed the culprit, my nervousness is a sign of requiring rest, the warmth to my face – alongside many other areas – is the manifestation of desiring the cosiness of sleep and well, as for looking at Chrom, it's due to him being my superior. It's _obviously_ respect. Respect loosely including being fascinated with his greenish-blue eyes and those adorable dimples and wanting to feel those 'accidental' touches he's prone to doing all over my body. Preferably on bare skin with me comfortably beneath him… I've definitely went mad now.

Yet, if this is madness, then what defines the infatuated sighs escaping castle maids when Chrom walks by them? The squeals oft heard when he greets them casually, or gods, the argument I overheard on who would be granted the privilege of washing his clothes. Not even my telling them that the blackness on his tunic was from the decapitated head of a Risen had dampened their frantic obsession.

And if that is complete madness, what name do I lend to myself? It is practically conclusive that upon seeing your prince topless from excessive training in the sun and descending into nonsensical stutters is alarming enough. Wanting to press my fingers to the shadows beneath his hips, to trail my fingers down the line of hair descending from his navel, makes me think I need a damn hard bonk around the head.

So why am I still staring at his arms, enjoying how my lower stomach coils and twists in sensation not entirely unpleasant? (Just what is that? Lissa descended into fits of laughter upon my explaining of the feeling and Miriel just smirked. Smirked!) Whatever it is, the suggestion made lecherously by Vaike doesn't sound half bad… I had heard rowdy bar tenders and their crude comments that a woman's mouth is good for more than talking...

Chrom laughs then, in that way of his that is more "Ah hah ha!" than actual laughing. The oddness of it doesn't compare to the certifiable madness that is my mind though. "You're great alright, Alina."

Great? That one word jolts be away from the amorous images in my head as much as it makes them more vivid. As in _great_? Why did he have to say that! Now I've really got Vaike's words like a bloody mantra in my head. Gaaah.

"Oh, ho, ha, hurrr," I reply. Wonderful. The alliance between to mouth and brain has been severed, though given what my head's preoccupied with, the phrase blessing in disguise springs to mind. "Yessum, well, dash my wig you swell of the first stare." Does anyone know what I'm even saying anymore? I clearly don't. And neither does Chrom judging by the look of concern.

"Whooo…" I exhale, shaking my head for extra measure before turning to look towards the door. It just happens to be convenient I'm looking away from Chrom. Funny how I can no longer hear my heartbeat in my ears by doing so. "It's late and I'd be best making my way on to sleep. I just came to check on you."

Chrom smiles warmly in gratitude. "Ah, of course," he says and I nod, picking up the cups and rising from the chair. "Wait, how late is it?"

"Past midnight, closer to dawn I'd say."

He bites his lip and takes a look at his piles of books with a frown. Again, I wonder what he's been reading, though his lateness to bed is nothing new. "I'd meant to talk to you before now regarding tomorrow, but it's best I don't keep you. A warm bed and a good rest is preferable over my rabbiting on."

"I like hearing you talk," I say, realising rather belatedly what I've said. Sleep deprivation – what a dastard. "That meaning I don't mind listening to what you've got to say." I take a seat back down and give a convincing smile. I can live with losing sleep; it's how aware I am of Chrom sat next to me that is the greater worry. "Is there something amiss with our route?"

"Not at all," Chrom replies, shifting in his seat slightly. "Granitsy is rather a large place and as of such, it has a market which I would like to pass through."

"We've got a bountiful supply of weaponry, elixirs and provisions to last us several weeks," I interject.

Chrom nods. "Yeah, but I was thinking more for a trip of pleasure than business." I raise a brow, hearing the slight nervousness in his voice and puzzling over it. I had overhead Lissa's mention to Stahl that he is looking for a gift for a lady (clearly not me in that case) and so perhaps that's it? The worry of not finding something adequate for her? Whomever she is.

He sees me beginning to interrupt and holds up a hand. "It would be an opportunity to take a breather before resuming duties. It may not be the best time given the need for preparation, but I'd rather grant the Shepherds a measure of freedom before needing them to give their all."

That doesn't explain his previous tone, but I find myself nodding nonetheless. "That's fine with me. With how hard we've all been working, we can spare a day or so to relax a little." Remaining in Feroxian lands, there's little chance of ambush, though plotting who best to keep as lookouts, where to allocate camp in relation to the markets and town so we don't need to set up twice and that we should visit the area as individual groups doesn't hurt. It means a little extra work, but I'm happy to accommodate the time if it means letting the pressure off for a while. I smile; it's a kind gesture and one I'm sure the others will appreciate.

"Good. I'll mention it tomorrow morning before we begin marching," he says.

"Right." I nod, making the mistake of looking directly at him and once again, forgetting how to function like a human being. I suddenly find myself empathising with Cordelia and her lapses in her otherwise faultless demeanour that leaves her flushed redder than Sully's hair. Alongside it comes my guilt, having always dismissed her infatuation as failure of control and thinking myself immune to Chrom's charm. Clearly, there's just something about him that makes our heads think, 'What? Grant you the possession of your emotions when there is a fine specimen of a man before you? Mwah ha ha. I think not.'

Hormones! That's it! Those bloody pesky things mentioned by Miriel. Undisputedly ignorant of what exactly hormones arethough I am, they can be put at blame and so used for blame they shall be. …Or am I just supplementing a theory to my own situation in the hopes it makes me sound not entirely insane?

Is Chrom currently undergoing this uncertified madness too? He hasn't spoken for a while, but then neither have I due to my internal musing. Is that why he's staring at my mouth? Or is he counting the cracks visible in the skin? I run my tongue over my top lip and press the top and bottom together, hoping my saliva acts as a coating that deters him from seeing the sorry state of my lips.

If anything, Chrom only seems to stare more intensely and just slightly, he leans his body forward. Woo… did someone just light a fire and add a sprinkle of hormones that causes unnamed excitement and nerves? Unaware of the thoughts going through my head, his hand comes up to push my hair behind my ear and instantly I'm aware of the tremble my body makes in response. What a paradox, to feel so warm yet be certain of the piloerection on the back of my neck.

Without meaning to, I place my own hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. Even with gloves, it's undeniably enjoyable. Very slowly, his mouth curves into a smile and I feel my own lips tug in response. There's a genuine warmth to it and when I look up, I smile further, glad to see the warm crinkle to his eyes that I realise I've come to love seeing having been with its absence for a while.

Go find another man to have a war with, Gangreal. I'm keeping Chrom here so I can keep him smiling like that for as long as I can.

…Why does that make me think there's something more important I should be doing than ogling Chrom?

Right, sleep! Duh. We won't win the war if the tactician is off in stupid land and dancing with the butterflies in her stomach. Gods I hope sleep restores my rational, linear, non-infatuated mind.

How much easier it would be if I could just catch a nap in here… I jump up, startling both Chrom and myself and having to catch myself on the edge of the table. Chrom's dived up too, no doubt alarmed at my sudden burst of energy. "I'm sorry, I was just..." What exactly? Picturing you in your bed with me on top. Or bottom. I can't say I'm that fussy? "I need to sleep."

Chrom nods but I notice how he doesn't look at me. His head is dropped to his chest and I hear him take a heaving breath. Hello again awkwardness, long time no see. Your vacation was far too short for my liking.

"Um, good night," I hastily say and before he can muster a reply, I blast out of there faster than a bolt of Arcthunder.

**..**

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><p><strong>..<strong>

Adjacent to the town of Grantisy does indeed lay a market, as Chrom had mentioned. What he had failed to mention however is the sheer size of said market. Surprisingly, for a town that lays on the border of its country it is well habited and seems to serve as the point of commerce for many of the smaller villages we passed. My books I had used for planning had made no reference to this place and so I'm amazed at its existence if not also a little bit bugged I hadn't know about it.

This is exactly why I need Chrom at my side when devising routes, able as he is to provide versions of areas far better than those given by the archaic books.

Still, whilst I'm here, I plan to take full advantage. Sticking to the plan of entering the market in small groups, Sumia, Chrom, Gaius and I amongst a few others are taking our turn. It's not just Chrom who has become recognisable; many of the other Shepherds are somewhat local celebrities and, as of such, are roped into menial tasks. As Sully had once grumbled; just because she is a Shepherd by name by no means makes her able to wrangle stray sheep into pens. Therefore, smaller groups equates to less chance of being easily noticed.

The call of vendors hawking their wares rises up past the hustle and bustle of shoppers and I'm glad to see the snow laden streets are only dampening the soles of boots rather than the atmosphere. My footwear being practical, the slight slipperiness to the ground is nothing bearing concern, but to the already falls-prone Sumia, this could very well be a practise in staying upright for the poor girl.

"Ooh look! They've got fresh rhubarb and peaches and -!"

"Gods, Sumia, I may very well consider purchasing you some new boots while we are here."

I laugh, hearing the flurry of apologies that stream from the Pegasus knight's mouth. I'm not sure whether my suggestion for her to link arms with Chrom is helping her or hindering her. She's a lot pinker than her armour, that's for sure, but that could be from the cold. Or maybe she's got that same bout of inexplicability as I had last night, leaving her grappling for more than a foothold on the ground. Even with a good sleep, I still seem to be having the aftereffects. Just looking at Chrom and Sumia, my stomach swells with an unease whose aetiology is a mystery to me.

"Hey bubbles, while Stumbles and Blue go fawn over pie ingredients, how's about you and me take a gander at the books?"

I tear my eyes away from where Chrom and Sumia are taking tasters and as I widen them, I slacken my jaw in an act of surprise. "You? Look at books? And no mention of sweets? What's the catch?"

Gaius holds his hand up and frowns. "Ye of so little faith! Maybe I just happen to know where the good bookstore are."

My hands situate themselves on my hips. "And this has nothing to do with buying my secrecy?"

The thief doesn't even so much as bat an eyelid, instead only rolling the lollipop that seems to be perpetually in his mouth between his thumb and forefinger. "Nope," he says, popping the p.

I raise a brow, suspecting the opposite is true but going with it. I wanted to visit the bookstores anyway, and to have an escort will make the trip easier. Sumia is in deep conversation with Chrom so I doubt our absence will be missed. Her eyes flick in my direction and I notice that Chrom, too, is looking my way every so often. I ignore the suspicion that they're talking about me, thinking it nothing bearing worry about and point to Gaius and the street behind. At their nods of understanding, I follow Gaius to one of the best places ever invented.

**..**

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><p><strong>..<strong>

The trip successful – that meaning that my coat is now laden with several books including ones of herbs for Stahl and fortune telling for Sumia – my haul of purchases is one made sweeter by the fact that Gaius paid. If this is what he thinks will take for me to keep his tattoo a secret then, for now, I'll let him believe my secrecy needs to be bought if it means more books for me.

Walking back through the passages to the main centre, the sweet aroma of baked goods diffuses into our noses. It's a delicious smell and I only chuckle when Gaius bids me a hasty farewell and follows the smell the way a dog latches to a scent. I make to follow him, feeling a mite peckish myself, when I see the stall with items glittering in the few rays of wintery sun. The trinkets range from small safes keep boxes to necklaces that are adorned with jewels of blues, reds and purples. A silver one in particular holds my eye. Delicate like spun lace, the wire holds what the vendor tells me is a jade stone.

"May I?" I ask and at the man's nod, I pick it up and hold it against my throat, admiring it in the small presented mirror. It's absolutely gorgeous and also waaaaaaay out of my budget. I don't need such material items, but oh is it pretty.

I sigh, unwillingly inching the piece of jewellery away from my neck when I feel two bigger hands take the two ends of the chain from me and clasp them together.

"Hey, what are-" I startle and flick my eyes back up to the mirror in front. With his hands sat on my shoulders and face next to mine showing an easy smile, the twinge of initial fears metamorphoses into something that keeps my heart beating just as fast. Maybe sleep hasn't quite cured what I can only term as a burning in my chest, though unlike all other afflictions, this one I could happily endure.

"It suits you," Chrom says, his voice breathing into my ear.

"It's too expensive," I refute. I'm only able to rise my hands level with my chest to remove the necklace before Chrom holds them still.

"I'll pay for it."

I immediately shake my head. "Don't be silly. I don't need it."

Chrom's smile softens as he catches my eye in the mirror. "A beautiful woman deserves a beautiful item to wear."

I snort in disbelief. His sounds sincere, but the words fall flat given his view of me not adhering to someone perfumed and pretty. With my bland outfit of a cloak over my woollen clothes, the state of my wind-whipped, snow-drenched hair that began as a knot and is now trailing across my neck, I can find no verisimilitude in my reflection. A tactician looks back at me, and that's more comfort than a stunning visage. Pulling my hands free, I quickly unclasp the necklace and hand it back to the vendor who looks at me shocked. Oh. Probably not common curtsey to refuse a gift from the Crown Prince.

I turn to face Chrom, catching him staring after the necklace. "Don't waste your money on that. If you're going to insist on paying for something, can we make it a warm drink?"

I turn my head away from him and spy Sumia and Gaius a few paces away, both seemingly in food bliss given their looks of contentment. I latch on the idea before Chrom can protest. "We can grab the others too and go for a meal!" I don't wait for his response, leaving him at the stall while I make a bee-line for said others. When I catch my reflection on a dish for sale, I can't tell if I'm red from the cold or something altogether very different.

**..**

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><p>The snow makes an audible crunch beneath my boots as I make my way through the forest. The sounds of camp are a background hum; enough to keep me from straying into the trees too far but distanced enough for a modicum of peace. Upon presenting the book of herb lore to Stahl – a much belated thank-you for his help – flicking through a couple pages, a lot of what the book contained could be found in areas prone to snow, including a particular type of lichen Stahl appeared interested in. Already proposed to gather firewood, scouring the woods for said plant seemed practical; the fun I'm having is an extra bonus.<p>

Snow and ice cover every surface both in and beyond my visible sight, and much though I've become familiar with the appearance, the weather it brings and it's hindrance, until this point, the amusement had been left vastly unexplored. I kick my feet through a large mound, laughing when it flutters into the air. No-one told me the stuff is just an altered state of water, the snowflakes that of which dissolves instantly as I outstretch my tongue.

I shiver and rub my eyes as the snow clings to my eyelashes, but I think nothing of it as I stoop to collect a branch and smack it against the nearest tree to remove the clinging ice. My actions cause the snow atop leaves to flurry down on top of me and I laugh. I can't remember snow at all no matter how hard I try so I make the most of it and throwing my arms wide, I close my eyes, tip my head back and stick my tongue as I twirl, slipping on ice but not at all deterred.

My laugh echoes as snow drips down my face and past my collar. The recent addition of metal hanging at my throat is freezing against my skin, but I take it all in stride and continue to spin. It's only when I open my eyes and catch sight of the figure leaning against the tree do I jump and yelp.

"Ow! Dammit ow!" I mutter, holding my hand to my mouth as though that's going to soothe my bitten tongue. Good gods that hurt.

Chrom sends me an apologetic smile but I glare, seeing the twitch of amusement playing at his lips. "You really shouldn't sneak up on me," I say, or attempt to. It comes out sounding like "Ooh wee-ree shwud dent shneak uhp on mwee."

"Better it being me than an enemy," Chrom points out, clearly understanding my string of letters that somewhat resembles actual words.

I resist the urge to stick my tongue out it him, though that's mostly because it's still throbbing. I hold it out between my teeth, unsure whether the cold is making it feel better or worse. When at last I gather some feeling back into the muscle, I ask him what he's doing.

"If you're referring to a minute ago, I had come to see what was taking you so long and well, you looked like you were having too much fun to be interrupted."

"And though it alright to just stare at me?"

He has the grace to at least look guilty. "Forgive me. It's just a rarity to see you drop your guard and act so carelessly."

I shrug, a little embarrassed to have been caught acting childishly. "Perhaps not the wisest idea seeing how we're in the middle of a war… It's just so easy to feel separated from all of it when out here, in this snow made oneiric hush." I laugh, this time sheepishly. "Oh well, better get this wood to camp, right?"

I pick up the twigs and branches I'd let drop from my previous outstretched arms and nod to signal my departure before taking the first few steps back to camp. I haven't gotten any lichen, but I'm sure Stahl would have a far better clue of what he's looking for anyway.

That's when I feel the impact of something relatively solid against my shoulder.

I turn my head to look at the snow clinging to my coat and move my eyes up to the sole culprit. Chrom smiles, arms crossed and looking like the picture of innocence. That is until catching sight of the mirth making his eyes bright. Again, is it any wonder I don't see him as a Royal? Where is the bowing to greet a woman and a kiss to the back of the hand when departing?

My eyebrow arcs as I stare at him. "What was that for?"

He shrugs and holds his hands up. "Don't blame me. Maybe the snow decided to get its own back after you ate so much of it."

I release a breath in a huff of disbelief. "So you mean to tell me that the snow just magically grew arms and threw snow at me?" I let the pile of wood drop back to the floor, sure to grab a fistful of snow as I rise. My back still to Chrom, I say over my shoulder, "Very well then. Here's how it's done!" I yell, spinning quickly and throwing my ball of snow (snowball?) at Chrom's own shoulder.

He's already anticipated my move though and easily dodges, letting the snowball explore in a shower against the tree. I don't let him get away that easily though – I'm already ducking the retaliation from Chrom whilst collecting my own reinforcements.

And thus begins the inception of the grandest of all battles – a snowball fight: Lord versus Tactician.

The snow is too soft to be hard on impact, but I still shriek when it drips past my collar and between my breasts and howl with laughter as one snowball after another pelts me. Chrom ducks behind a tree following his recent round of hits, but I catch him when he peeks out and whoop with victory as Chrom brushes snow from his shoulders.

"You really are quite childish, you know that?" I say.

Chrom shakes his head, his hair becoming mostly blue again as snow falls from the strands. "So says the royal tactician."

"Just wait till I tell Freddy about how silly you are. He'll be most disappointed."

He laughs, knowing as well as I do that Frederick would offer no greater clue to his disproval than his perpetual frown. "Go tell the entire Shepherds if that's what you wish."

I smirk then, sidling up to him. "I would much rather tell the soles of your boots."

Chrom frowns, confusion clearly evident as he says, "But you can't -!"

My hands push firmly against his chest, enough force behind it to knock Chrom backwards though not completely over as was my intention. What I don't expect is that as I step forward for momentum, my foot would land on ice and send me sprawling unceremoniously downwards.

"Ooft!" I call out and see Chrom make a lunge for me. What he doesn't realise is that his balance which served him well before is no match for my downwards force or the ice he's now stepped into.

Thankfully, snow is as good a cushion as it something to have fun with and Chrom and I land with a muffled thump. Even though Chrom's weight is rested on his elbows, what I can feel of him is not a bad thing to be feeling.

My eyes go wide, recognising this scene a bit too easily from all the romance books Sumia lent me. I figure this should be the point where Chrom will lean down and kiss me and then tadah, my ring finger will gain a new adornment. I know my cheeks are red at the thought but I can't help but laugh. As if. Even if he doesn't act like a prince, it's practically inscribed into his blood to marry a woman closer to his station, not a common tactician.

I wait for him to shift off of me, but when that doesn't happen, I can't stop the little hitch my breath gives. "Uh…"

"Alina, tell me the truth, do you dislike my company?"

I gape at him. What manner of ignoramus wrote the fairy tales of tender moments that are the precipitate to a long-desired kiss? I don't really want a kiss, I just think following the script would be such a better idea. I don't voice any of these thoughts, saying instead, "You're jesting, surely? Why would I?"

His head shakes. "Every time you're alone with me, you find a reason not to be."

"You make the business of my life sound intentional," I say.

"I'd wager that your moves to avoid me are incredibly intentional."

"Chrom," I begin, "I can't help it if I've got a lot to do, and if that makes it seems like I'm avoiding you then I'm sorry."

He doesn't look convinced and really, who can blame him? His eyes narrow ever so slightly and I watch as something akin to anger flashes past his features. He's pushing up off the ground and stepping away from me before I can be certain of the emotion though. "Did you end up buying a necklace for yourself even though I offered to?"

The words are polite enough, but I can catch the clipping to them. I sit up, sure of his annoyance now though I'm not positive why he is irked. My hand touches my throat, the feel of the necklace there still something new to me. "No, this is a gift from Gaius." It is similar to the one I saw in the market though, following the same pattern with only the stone being a shade darker. "He saw me fawning after the one at the stall and made this replica as way of thanks."

"So Gaius can present you with gifts but I can't?" Chrom says.

"This was handmade, Chrom. I couldn't exactly turn it down after he'd spent so much time making it could I?" I explain. "Besides, spending the royal treasury on needless gifts for me is just ridiculous. I don't need fancy trinkets."

"But if I were to present to you something handmade, would you accept it?"

I bite my lip. "There would be no reason to. I only accepted this necklace because Gaius' attempts to repay me for my service were getting overbearing. I haven't done anything to warrant a gift from you, and before you say it, keeping you and the Shepherds alive is my job. I don't need thanks for it."

Chrom crosses his arms and I can see him gritting his teeth together. "If that's how you see it then that's just… grand. I'll see you back in camp," he mutters and only stopping to pick up the firewood, he disappears through the trees back into the throng of tents.

**..**

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><p><strong>..<strong>

The quiet calm of the beginning of sunset settles over camp bringing with it a sense of quiet and peace. Lamps are lit to cast warmth and light and in the centre of the circle of logs I'm sat on, a fire burns merrily. The reports from our covert soldiers told of nothing more threatening than a few bears and wolves, and so seeing there is no reason to dim the lights, I take full advantage of the fire.

It is usually quite relaxing and therapeutic to watch the lazy flickering of flames and hear the pops and crackle of kindling, but not today.

My head is buried in my hands and as for the sounds leaving my mouth, it's somewhere between a growl and a groan. I have angered Chrom so much, he had refused to see me when I'd attempted to make amends earlier. And best of it is, I'm not overly sure why he's so damned furious. Surely the anger must have abated by now, but seeing how on my most recent trip to his tent, he hadn't made any reply and the lights were off, I have the feeling he's ignoring me.

So I accepted a gift off a friend, so what? That's no reason to get your pantaloons in such a twist, Chrom.

I sigh, groan and curse everything as I drop to lie down on the log, hiding my eyes with my hands. How much easier it would be if we could regress back to the earlier days of our acquaintance, where we could be allies and not be complicated by ridiculous feelings of shyness or embarrassment. Then I think of the times where we've sat up discussing everything and nothing, sharing our knowledge on all we know. When we've fought together, synchronised with one another's movements, complementing the swing of a sword with a bolt of magic and all the while, feeling that bond of trust and comradery growing tighter and stronger with every victory. I pull at a thread on my sleeve, thinking of all the times I've found him asleep and left my coat over him for warmth just as he drapes his cloak over me when I conk out.

"Graaaaahhh," I mutter, unable to find the words apt enough to describe the current predicament.

"Sexual tension got ya feeling left tightly sprung and unfulfilled huh?"

My eyes fly open to the smirking face of Sully who stands leaning above me. "What are you talking about?"

"Please," she scoffs, knocking my legs off the log and plonking down onto it. "With how riled up you are and those huffs you're giving, what else could it be?"

I snort. Between her and Vaike, I wonder if they are holding bets on how fast Chrom can get a girl into bed. "I'll have you know that actually I've just had my butt handed to me by Virion in a game of chess. Not exactly a grand ego boost to be beaten by a man in frills."

Sully makes a sound of disbelief. "Yeah, right! Face it, what you need is a good shagging."

"SULLY!" I screech, whirling round to check no-one heard that.

The cavalier just laughs. "Don't go getting me confused for one of those mushy girls, but even I can see those looks you're given to the Captain."

"And those looks would be?" I feign ignorance, clapping my hands to my cheeks in an attempt to hide the redness I'm sure is clear as a beacon.

"Like you want to bang him harder than he hits those training dummies," she says with a wink.

I grimace, having should have expected that. Her nonchalance surprises me though and much like Vaike, I wonder if out in the wild where battles and bloodshed is almost constantly on our doorstep, do they give much heed to the law of celibacy before marriage? Even if they don't, that isn't incentive for me to suddenly take action on Sully's so called advice.

I sigh, "As blunt as always."

Sully gives another cackle of a laugh. "That's me through and through. But I didn't come over here to make you get your shit together. Did ya know there's some sort of festival happening in town tonight?"

I relax a little, glad for the change in topic. "This is the first I've heard of it. Who's going?"

"Everyone of course!" a voice chips in and much though I know belongs to Lissa, ever since that day in Plegia, her cheer isn't quite as exuberant as it once was. She comes into view and continues, "Well, apart from Panne who doesn't see the point, Tharja because she wants to see if you're going and Frederick because duh, Frederick's such a stick in the mud. But it's going to be so much fun!" Lissa claps her hands together, grinning brightly.

By everyone, I guess that extends to Chrom too and in that case, I decide resolutely that this is one festivity I'll pass on. I don't want Chrom and I's sudden rift to cause any dampener on the Shepherds' spirits. That of course also means that I'm going to pretend I'm going so no-one even knows that Chrom and I aren't getting on like as we normally do. Any unease between a commander and tactician is surely going to cause alarm amongst the others, especially after I heard Nowi call Chrom and me the parents of our big Shepherd family.

I look up at Lissa, plastering an enthusiastic smile to my face and feeling it falter slightly when noticing the necklace she wears. "Hey, I like the jewellery Lissa," I say, gesturing towards the silver and jade piece. My own neck is absent from Gaius' gift, now safely tucked away in one of my smaller chests.

"Oh, right! Isn't it pretty? When Chrom said he wanted my opinion on a gift to get for a girl, I didn't think he meant me! I mean, he was asking me what kind of perfume I liked, so I figured that would be what he'd get, but I like this so much better!" Her fingers trace the spirals of silver as she speaks, much like I had done when admiring it back at the stall. "Hey, Alina, are you alright?! You've went pale!"

"Don't look at me! I wasn't on cooking duty today," Sully protests.

"Do you want me to get my staff?"

I waive them both off, standing up as I do. "No it's fine. I've just suddenly got a headache. I'm going to take a lie down in my tent."

Lissa's head bops in a vigorous nod. "Absolutely! You can't miss the festival!"

"Yeah," I say softly before giving a wave and heading towards my tent. Gods, no wonder Chrom is so annoyed. Couple that with my excuses to escape from his company and is it really any question as to why he thinks I dislike him so?

When I enter my tent, it takes a lot of willpower to not smack my head of the table. I do throw myself onto the pallet and bury my face into the pillow though. Why can't life just pan out as the fairy-tales do? Where life is simple and uncomplicated and the Princes act in linear, unambiguous ways, making their intentions clear. Couldn't he just have said, 'Say, Alina, I got ya a gift and I'd like you to wear it.'?

How can Sumia see Chrom as a Prince? The girl had been appalled at my critique of him after I'd compared him to fictitious royals once completing all Ylissean tales of Princes and heroics.

"_Look at him, Sumia. He leaves things to chance, is impulsive and swayed by emotion. He employs mercenaries rather than rely solely on the unwavering loyalty of his comrades. His appearance is dishevelled at most times…" There was also the additions of his inability to be confident around me, including his tendency to bolt like a craven in my presence…_

"_He's exactly like the books! Kind and handsome and intelligent. He's a fantastic captain and one day, he'll make an even better Exalt!"_

So maybe if I were to be kind, there was some credence to be found in Sumia's argument, but my own points were still true. "Why am I even so concerned anyway?" I muse out loud. I like the fact that Chrom didn't want fancy titles or a bow done with flourish when greeting him, believing even 'milord' to be too much. It's comforting to be able to laugh and joke with him without fear of being seen as common or crude. Never had I considered that I was harming a royal which is an act worthy of hanging when I hit him for being dorky or had pelted him with snowballs, simply because Chrom would rather I treat him like another comrade than a blue blood.

Maybe that is just it, the exploration of Chrom's status to assure myself that maybe my affections for him aren't so completely ridiculous. That although I'm no better than a vagabond really who just struck fortune when she awoke in that field, it doesn't matter because although he's a prince, I don't need to be intimidated by that fact?

I bite my tongue (lightly this time) to stop myself from screaming into the pillow. That's all fine and good in regards to our professional relationship, but I'm finding myself to be considering something more than a cordial arrangement…

"Great," I say to myself, "Well done, me. You're attracted to a man who's pissed off at you. Congratulations."

"Yo Bubbles, am I good to enter?"

I raise my head high enough to see Gaius peeking his head through the tent flap. It is nigh on impossible to find solitude and rant on my own in this place. "Uh, sure."

"Sweet. So here's the thing, do you know where I can get seashells from?" he asks, twirling the stick of his lollipop.

I sit up fully and rub a hand down my face. Is that some kind of rhetorical question? "A beach?" I supply.

"Well duh." He rolls his eyes. "Unless you know something I don't, I aint seen no beaches round here, Bubbles."

I can't say I've ever seen a beach, much less know where the prime location of one would be. "Why do you even want them anyway?"

Gauis pulls the lollipop from his mouth and points it towards me. "Blue wants 'em. Not me."

I stare at him, confused. "Okay, I'll rephrase then. Why does our Captain want them?"

"Beats me," he replies with a shrug. "He was rather flustered about it though – he was asking me about how to make all kinds of stuff. Can't say I really see blue as the craftsman's type though."

"A handmade gift, huh," I mutter to mostly myself, closing my eyes. "Did he mention who the gift is for?" I ask. I already have my suspicions, but I'd prefer a clarification.

"Nope," Gaius says, "But it's definitely for someone Blue's got his eyes on I'd say."

I hum thoughtfully. "Maybe this festival tonight I've heard about may yield the objects."

"Yeah…" His eyes light up. "Or even better, they'll have chocolate ones! Or ones dripped with honey!"

I don't catch much else of what he says other than the murmur of "mmm, sugar," and decide that I've lost him to the sticky capture of sweetly goods. Gaius is as about much a thief as Chrom is a prince. How can one who deals in disguise and operate under shadowy covertness be so easily side-tracked by something as simple as sweets? Honestly, anyone could offer him candied figs and he'd be loyal for life.

"Yeah, that's great, Gaius. Can you go salivate over sweets somewhere over than my tent?"

"Yeesh, Bubbles. Who got you acting sourer than a tangfastic jelly?"

I shake my head at him, not even knowing what sweet he's making a reference too but adamantly deciding to not directly answer regardless. I stand up and make shooing motions with my hand. "Leave me alone. I'm tired is all."

"Sure," he drawls mockingly before he looks at my bed and shakes his head resolutely. "Sorry to break it to you, Bubbles, but you can't go sleeping just yet. Don't want you to miss out on the fun."

"You mean the festival?"

He shrugs and I'm left bewildered. What other fun is he referring to then? My thoughts and I aren't exactly a bundle of joy. More like a pity-party and only I knew about it. When at last he makes his way through the tent flap, I can't say I'm sad to see him going. Before he fully leaves though he taps his pockets and turns to me. I suppress a groan. Leave me to wallow already will you?

"One last thing, Bubbles, here you go." He holds out a book, a simple brown thing of average weight and size. It's as nondescript as lot of my books and so I don't make any connection, not even when he adds, "Blue thought it about time he return it to you."

"Return a book?" I question curiously, having never even lent one to him.

Gaius just winks and makes his exit, leaving me to stare at the book. I turn it over in my hands and skim read the title of what Chrom's been reading. I can only stare at it.

_The complete edition of Ylissean Fairy Tales._

"Why in Naga's name would you be interested in fairy tales, Chrom?" I ask out-loud, not expecting an answer but certainly desiring one. Surely the maids and nannies at the castle educated him in the classic literature? Even if not, why take an interest now?

I rotate the book a couple of times, thinking more and more about the book Chrom was reading the other day. Other than it having been small, plain and brown – nondescript clues that fit the book I hold know – there was nothing remarkable about it. It could have been any book he was reading and maybe he borrowed this one for Lissa or Sumia? I frown, not believing my own musings.

Opening the pages, I briefly read the first few lines of a couple of stories. This is the exact book I borrowed from Sumia and later used for comparison against Chrom. Was this what Sumia and he were discussing that day in the town whilst glancing at me?

I bite my lip, puzzling over a plethora of different thoughts but end up shaking my head. If Chrom was using this book to act like a prince, then wouldn't it be more obvious? Say, wearing fancy clothes, speaking eloquently, acting confidently… I pause at the last one. He does seem to have recovered pretty well from those bathing incidents, but only after I visited him in his tent…

"No way," I mutter. Why would he even be acting all princely suddenly anyway? Besides, he was doing it all wrong if this book was anything to go by. I flick to a particular chapter, and read out loud, "T'was then upon the hour nigh of midnight her eyes sought the man whom she had searched endlessly for. Clad in the finery of golden threads and rich blues all hand-loomed, he looked every part the prince as he trotted over to her atop his valiant steed, white cape a flutter in the evening breeze."

I look at what I've just read and laugh. That may very well be the image of a prince I have in my head, but can anything sound so more absurdly ridiculous? If Chrom was honestly like that, his time spent on finery rather than practicality, I have no doubt that I wouldn't be standing here today. Between war councils, revision of Ylissean law, honing his already exceptional sword skills, I'd be amazed if he had the time to dabble with such fanciness. I chuckle again and muse, "I have to give credit where it's due though, Chrom. You've got the white cape sorted. But the steed? I've never even seen you ride."

The book all but drops from my hand when the unmistakable whinny of a horse sounds nearby. I blink and tilt my head, certain I imagined the sound when it rings clear again. The sounds itself is unremarkable; quarter of the Shepherds own a steed, but the proximity to my tent is alarming. Puzzled, I walk to my tent's entrance and poke my head out.

The book does drop then.

No more than a couple metres away stands a stallion, and not just any old one, oh no. Purest white, brushed to the point of shining with even its hooves looking polished, I know without doubt this doesn't belong to a Shepherd. So amazed I am by the brilliant white stallion, I don't even notice the rider until the sound of boots hitting the floor make me look to the owner.

If my mouth wasn't open before, then now I can't even keep it closed with my hand.

The boots are completely spotless, gilded and made of leather far finer than my own, the trousers a black as deep as the footwear. The tunic; rich blue trimmed with silver fits him like a glove and attached at his waist lays the sword that marks him identifiable before I raise my eyes any higher.

"Holy shit," I mutter rather unorthodox, yet I don't know what else to say.

I blink, shake my head, rub my eyes, pinch my arm and yet nothing changes. Clad in the physical embodiments of the clothes from the fairy tale, flanked by the noble steed and looking sinfully handsome is none other than Chrom.

Chrom who told me that the last royal ball he was invited to had him jumping in the moat to ruin his clothes and avoid going. Who at Frederick's insistence of calling him "Your highness," began to call him "Mister Freddy Bear" as a point of showing how much he disliked the name. Who after granting Lissa the permission to rub her nose on his cloak had shrugged of the disgust of others, claiming the rain would wash whatever she had left behind away.

Rubbing the stallion's nose, Chrom looks to where I stand then and smiles politely. It's stiff and formal and holds no trace of its usual warmth or humour. Yet, even with such the change, I can't stop marvelling. The neatness of his hair deters my common urge to run my fingers through it and given the perfect fit of his clothes, I can find no reason to touch him as I tend to with the alibi of arranging his collar.

I realise rather belatedly that my mouth is still hanging ajar and I quickly snap it shut, swallowing loudly. Gods, does he brush up well.

"Good evening, My Lady. It is my hope that the night has fared you well," Chrom says, his enunciation softening his voice and causing that peculiar thread of heat to coil itself in my stomach. I lean back a little, my hand finding its way onto the support beam of my tent and staying there.

"Ah, yes…" I trail off, unsure of the right protocol of replying and wincing at the own clip of an accent in my voice. What am I thinking? This is Chrom! I've spoken to him numerous times before, how can I not reply to him? I open my mouth, ready to ask him how his night is going and yet, no matter what I do, I can't force the words past my tongue.

Dear Naga, he really is stunningly handsome.

I self-consciously brush my hands along my top and swipe at my trousers, hoping to smooth the crinkles and dust off the dirt. Never has Chrom shared his views upon appearance, and I don't believe they would extend to anything more than practicality, but I find myself greatly caring what he thinks as I run my fingers through the tangle of my hair. How could I not care when he's looking every part of the fairy tale prince and I'm garbed in clothes befitting the lowly peasant?

"It is not my wish to sound presumptive, but would you perhaps do me the honour of accompanying me this eve?" Chrom asks, still as calm and regal as before. No hesitation, no nervous muttering or stuttered ums and ahs. The drastic metamorphosis is almost alarming.

"Where to?" I quickly say, not trusting my voice not to squeak with surprise. How do the fictional princesses and scullery maids keep so stoic when conversing with a prince? It's absurd that I'm worried over saying the wrong thing, but him standing there, polite but impassive, it's nigh on impossible to not think him as judging my appearance and mannerisms. If I were to snort around him now, or attempt to pelt him with snow, would he laugh and react? Or think me childish?

I don't believe this to be the true revelation of Chrom; that all other behaviours and demeanour have been naught but an elaborate façade. But nor can I deny that despite his reluctance to acknowledge himself as Prince, that excludes him from the role.

I bite my lip and look away from him, finding myself remarkably foolish for realising my feelings for a man who may as well be a distant star given our differences.

"Nowhere far, I assure you," Chrom says.

"Right." It takes me a moment to reply, so lost I am in trying to find a conceivable reason behind all this and not rush back to the small comfort of my bed. Perhaps I should go back, only this time I will knock my head against a brick wall. Maybe that will dislodge all my stupid fantasies.

Unknowing of my thoughts, Chrom sweeps into a low bow that speaks of an upbringing of royal curtsies. His head dips with the movement before he raises his eyes to focus on me. Alongside the confidence, so too, is the slightest hint of worry that perhaps I'll decline. The temptation is there, partially created by wanting to know what his reaction would be, but mostly, my desire to refuse is born from my own self-esteem. Who am I to accept his invitation like some woman fit to be at a Prince's side as anything more than his tactician?

I look at the hand he has offered towards me, still clad in his usual leather gloves. They are completely out of sorts with the royal ensemble and the sight of them relaxes my apprehension a little. I don't understand the prompt behind the sudden princely behaviour, but behind it all is my Chrom, and unattainable though he is – acting like a prince or not – there is nothing unusual or harmful to anything other than my own heart about spending time with him.

I place my hand into his and at his request of, "Shall we?" I nod and he tucks my hand into crook of his arm.

It's remarkable how even his walk is different, more like a stuck up duck I think to myself and have to cough to hide my laugh. His head turns towards me, curious, but I just shake my own head and smile before looking ahead again. When I do, the sight that greets me has my unreleased laugh turning into an inhale of surprise. Where the icicles have frozen to the branches of trees is beautiful enough, but it's the glow of lights behind that has me intrigued. I turn to Chrom and he nods towards the branches, wordlessly gesturing for me to duck under the tree limbs and into what lays behind.

And once again, I am struck beyond belief. Snow has been pushed up to form piles on which masses of candles sit, their flames catching the icicles and throwing spectrums that give a magical feeling. The clearing; a wide circle lined by the dense population of trees and fallen logs has to be man-made and so I look to Chrom, asking, "You did all this?"

"My efforts were combined with the aid of willing helpers," he replies, following my lead into the almost ethereal place.

"Why?"

"Must such actions require a true answer? I sought to make you happy is the simple truth." His mask of stoicism falters for the briefest moment as he asks, almost shyly, "Does this indeed make you happy?"

"I'm not sure where you're going with this, but yes. Yes it does."

"Then its aim has been achieved," Chrom says, reverting back to his calm self. "Though I hadn't asked you here to simply marvel at the scenery."

I tilt my head, curious. "Oh?"

He holds his hand out and makes another bow that puts even the elegance of Virion to shame. "Would you care to dance, my lady?"

I regard him for a moment, waiting for the twitch of humour to belie his sincerity, or for his nerves to make themselves present in the form of a blush. When neither happens, I scoff, "You're not being seriously… are you?"

"What reason would I have to jest?" he replies simply.

And there is it again, that look that makes it hard to say no. No wonder Prince Chrom doesn't make an appearance that often, he'd have the entire female population at his feet. "There's no music," I say, but as I listen, I can catch the drifts of notes likely resonating from the village.

Chrom smiles and shakes his head softly. "A decline would far more appreciated than excuses."

I sigh. "Fine. One dance won't hurt."

My hand situates itself once more into his as my other rests atop his shoulder. In line with the guise of a gentleman, Chrom's free hand situates itself lightly on the hollow of my back. I clamp down on the want for him to drop his hand a little lower.

Chrom begins the steps and by the second round, the waltz is easy enough to follow even with the snow barring our movements. The style is undoubtedly from a collection of Ylissean classics, and thus not one I'm familiar with, but I find it simple to match my pace with Chrom or to anticipate the next turn by the feel of the pressure of his hand. Maybe it's just the completion of sequenced steps that follow a rhythm, therefore making it easily remembered, but dancing like this sparks a sense of recognition.

"Are you familiar with Sir Hopkins compositions?" Chrom asks and I catch the faint note of surprise in his voice.

"No," I laugh. "Not really, or at least, I don't _think_ I am? Just this, dancing, it feels so familiar, like I've done this a thousand times before." I smile wistfully, wishing I could remember more than a gentle motherly chuckle and kind reminder to keep my head up and not watch what my feet are doing.

"Is it possible you were taught how to dance?"

I shake my head in an immediate no. "Such customs are reserved to royalty or noble house and I'm pretty sure I'm not some princess lost from Plegia or some such nonsense! I'm greatly undressed if that's the case."

"You look beautiful," Chrom says with his smile. A quick compliment, one intended for flattery rather than actual meaning. Bet it works a charm on court ladies.

I harrumph and roll my eyes. "Not as handsome as you, your highness. Whose pockets did you have to line with gold to find clothes like this?" I emphasise my point with a pinch of his cloak. Weaved, felted and dyed with woad to give it the depth of colour, I bet it cost a pretty penny.

"These are simply ones usually reserved for attendances in the castle. By the tailors standards, I imagine them to be quite outdated."

"And the horse?"

"A trade from the village. A single bullion in exchange for his presence for a night."

"I wasn't even aware you can ride."

He smiles then and I'm gladdened to see that curl of boyish humour that lessens his princely demeanour. "I would wager there's a great deal of many things you don't know about me."

"I'll say. Care to tell me though what was with the request of sea shells?" I expect him to falter, knowing that I was aware of his plans.

He just continues to look at me in that same beguiling way. "Diversionary tactics. The same ploy was given to Frederick as to Gaius so that they would attend the festival tonight." He sighs good-naturedly. "Not even sweets or insisting on my rights of secrecy was enough to deter those two from wanting to know who this was all for."

Oh. Perhaps Chrom can play the role of actor better than I had thought. Any gift would have been too much, and yet, disappointment still swells. I don't question him further though, confused as I am by another factor. "Wait, you knew a festival was being held tonight?"

"It had been something I was aware of for a while, yes."

My eyebrows shoot up, not knowing whether to be irked or impressed. "And so you just assumed I wouldn't be attending?"

He smiles, albeit a little sheepishly. "That was a stab in the dark. I did ask Sully to discover whether you wishes to attend or not, and if you had, I would have sought you out at the festival."

"You'd have come riding in on your snazzy stallion despite everyone being there?"

"Well…Uh," he stutters and I internally grin with glee, so enthralled I am to see the humanness. "I admit I was hoping you would opt for staying…"

"So when I passed by your tent earlier, thinking you were ignoring me, you were actually out here doing all this?" I ask, feeling a little sheepish myself.

Chrom frowns at me. "Ignoring you?"

"I thought you were angry at me for not accepting your gift…" I mutter.

"Ah." He rubs the back of his neck. "I…" He sighs and the sound is at contrasts with the imagery of confidence. "Yeah. I was annoyed. It's stupid and petty, but seeing Gaius gift on you made me jealous, Alina. I've had this all planned for a while but I wanted to visit the market specifically for you and after hearing you wouldn't accept a present from me, I knew I had to make this night all the more meaningful. And I just…"

I clamp my hand over his mouth, feeling my expression softening at the familiar rambling. But my head shakes, not entirely satisfied. "But why go to such lengths for my happiness? And what is with the fancy clothes and white stallion and eloquent speech? It's…" I search for the right word, not wanting to undermine how much he has done. "Startling."

When I remove my hand, he smiles and it's maddening in how quickly he masks his anxiety into serenity. "You wanted a prince and so." He holds his arms wide to exaggerate. "Here I am."

"Let me guess. Sumia told you I don't see you as a Prince, so you took it upon yourself to fill the role you were born to play?"

"Quite."

I stare at him, utterly flummoxed. Who knew Sumia could be such a sneaky one? Still, I hadn't intended my outspoken musings to be taken as anything more than speculation. Yes, I don't regard Chrom as a Prince in anything other than title and what implications that creates, but by no means does that mean I _want_ a Prince. "But why? Why go through all this trouble just to prove that you can be the prince if needs be?"

He stiffens, almost so imperceptibly that I wouldn't have caught it if not staring at him so hard. "Ah, well…" He coughs awkwardly and I feel my lips tug into a smile. "I may have heard you discussing how… un-princely I am, and I thought – mayhap erroneously – that you would rather I live up to my birth right."

I raise a brow in question, realising I'm making a lot of inquiries but still unable to not ask, "Why?"

"Because I… I believed that if I were to be your image of a prince; someone who treats you like a lady, who can speak eloquently without fear of tripping over his own tongue, then maybe… Uh…"

"Maybe…?" I press.

He looks away and steadily, inch by inch, the blush from his neck creeps up past his jawline. For a few moments, his eyes close and I watch as his heavy exhale forms a mist in the air before him. "No, I told myself I would tell you how I feel and gods help me, by the end of tonight I will."

"Chrom?" I say and he faces me again. The look on his features is one I am familiar with: the slightest of frowns mars his lips, but in his eyes determination is clear. Whatever ounce of impassiveness he retained has evaporated in the face of his emotions, but I'm grateful for the loss.

He grimaces, pulling a hand through his hair. "I fear I'm not very adept at putting my thoughts into words, Alina, so I hope actions do indeed speak louder."

His footsteps make the faintest crunch in the snow as he steps closer to me. I almost begin to ask his intentions when he takes my hand and lifts it, but my voice catches when he presses it to his chest. Beneath my palm, I'm almost sure I can feel the quickness of his heartbeat, but with my own thumping erratically, it could quite as easily be either as it could be both.

"Do you feel that?" he asks softly and when I look up at him, his eyes are crinkled with the same warmth that has his mouth curved in a smile. "I've become convinced that it only beats for you."

I drop my head, trying and likely failing to control the heat I can feel blazing from my cheeks. My lips twist and pout as I struggle to contain the giddy laugh lodged in my throat. Finally, when I am sure I have enough control of my vocal cords, I say, "Well, this was all a rather wasted effort. Appreciated, yes, but not necessary."

Chrom raises a brow. "Then why…?"

"Would I compare you to a fairy tale?" I interject. "Because you don't fit how I've always believed a prince to be. Graceful, formidable, benevolent, rational… And then there's you, and you don't match any of the stories. And I suppose, in a way, that was for my own peace of mind." I bring my other hand up to his chest, instantly smiling when his own hands reach up to cover mine. "If I could convince myself that even with your title, you're no different to me, then I didn't feel so stupid for thinking that somehow, you would return my feelings…"

"And what feelings would those be?"

I don't miss the note of hope in his voice and when I raise my head to meet his eyes, that hope is reflected in his gaze. My cheeks ache in equal parts numbness and strain, but my smile is uncontainable as I whisper to him, "The ones of me being in love with you."

His answering grin is exuberant and untamed. "Truly, you are?" When I nod, he laughs happily. "That's… That's… Wonderful! Ah ha ha ha!" Without warning he picks me up by the waist and spins me around, leaving me only able to join in his mirth. "This is the best day of my life!" he exclaims before sobering and leaning his forehead to rest against mine. "I'm in love with you too, Alina"

If possible, my grin becomes larger and I wind my hands up to his neck before running them through his hair. Deliberately, I muss up the style, much preferring the imperfect look. "You do realise we'll have Vaike's whoops of victory and Sully's smug smile to contend with?"

"Alongside Frederick's subtle gloating of being attuned to his charge's feelings and Lissa's questioning of when she'll become an auntie, we'll be engaging in a full frontal assault," he laughs.

"Good thing you've got a tactician on your side," I say with a smirk.

Chrom winds his arms closer around my waist and draws me nearer. "An apparently cold one at that."

"We are stood in snow," I deadpan, aware that I am shivering before I give a smile. "Not that I don't appreciate the scenery, but a warm blanket, a cup of tea and the right man at my side would be perfect right now."

He hums thoughtfully, smiling. "I'm sure I can make good on each of those conditions."

I grin at him and begin to pull away so we can head back to camp, only to be stopped by him holding me a little tighter.

"There's just one thing first," he says, moving his cloak so I'm wrapped up in it too.

"And that is?" I ask, having a pretty good idea by the way he moves his head closer to mine.

He smiles, whispers, "This." And kisses me.

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It is when dusk has swept its inky hue across the sky that the chatter from the Shepherds makes its way back into camp. The voices are loud, boisterous and filled with unfeigned laughter that, complete with shushes, are noisier than the banter. I imagine a lot are ambling back with alcohol laden minds and bodies.

Their arrival is the signal for my departure from Chrom's tent. Reluctant though I am to leave, it was a unanimous decision for our relationship to remain a secret until we claim victory in Plegia. Neither Chrom nor I don't doubt the announcement would inspire a bolstering cheer to prevail quicker as to have the royal wedding faster, but for now, it's a Captain and a Tactician the army needs.

When the voices raise enough to be indication of the Shepherds nearing the mass of tents, I finally move myself away from the warmth that is Chrom's arms and make to stand up.

It's no sudden surprise when just as I sit up, Chrom tugs me back down. I laugh, my resistance non-existent as he pulls me on top of him and locks his arms securely around my waist.

The switch in position is a reminder of the heated kisses from before when the want for tea to warm up had been forgotten in favour of not parting from each other. With bruised lips and his marks on my neck and collarbone, those memories alone are enough to bring my arousal brimming with full force.

"A couple more minutes," he mumbles, feathering kisses across my neck.

"Do you really want to explain to the entirety of our army as to why I'm in your bed? Even clothed, tongues will go wagging," I say, albeit a little breathlessly. The prospect of being caught adds a thrill of excitement that only accumulates to the exhilaration, but the explanations are not ones I feel like indulging in.

Chrom growls then and I battle with the desire to not relieve him of his tunic and all other garments that keep our touches restrained. Coupled with the fact that I'm in his bed, flushed but relaxed with Chrom beneath me, it's a heady feeling that has my thoughts increasingly becoming less innocent and are ones I'm sure Chrom is thinking too.

He relents finally and before I can formulate a sound enough reason to remain – which is easily done – I pry myself away and do stand up. Running my hands over my hair to smooth it down, I do the same to my clothes, none too surprised when I feel his arm wind back around me from behind. I crave his touch as much as he does mine and the sensations new and pleasant to the both of us, it's a battle to not succumb to the urge to continue exploring.

"I need to go," I remind him.

"Mm," is his reply as he turns me to face him. I offer no resistance and instead pull him closer. Knowing that I do need to leave however, I begin to walk backwards, using my hands to push Chrom away. It's a feeble attempt and I can feel his smile against my mouth as he matches my every step backwards with one forwards.

Before long, the edge of Chrom's table hits my thighs and I pause, weighing up the consequences of taking a preferred action over a more sensible one. Catching wind of my cessation, Chrom leans back, fingertips tracing patterns that tickle and please and have my back arching inadvertently.

He smirks, clearly seeing the affect such the simple motions are creating before his gaze darkens as I suck on my bottom lip. The sudden shift is instantaneous.

It could be the thrill of being caught and the excitement of secrecy, the irrefutable need to have skin on skin and how good his hips feel snug against mine, but I find myself grabbing for him as he yanks me close and slams his mouth to mine.

The sound I make is close to a purr, my hand twisting in the hair at the nape of his neck and taking delight in the way his muscles move in his back. Our eyes open for the briefest moment and in that time, I decide it's how goddamn good he looks with lustful eyes and mussed hair that's making me desire him badly. He catches the tip of his tongue between his teeth, and I know from the one gesture, despite the signs of his own need, if I said to, he'd stop if I wanted to.

I slide up onto the table, throwing my legs around his hips and gripping the front of his shirt, I lean back pulling him down with me. His legs come up, one against my hip and the other with his knees facing the area I need him the most.

"Chrom," I say, almost begging and thank gods, that one syllable is enough to have him throwing any concerns he harbours to the wind and kissing me like life depends on it.

He complies readily as I pull at his undershirt, eager to be rid of it. "Gods Alina," he groans out when I bring my hands to trace the contours of his chest, skimming his ribs. Encouraged by the depth of his breaths, I deliberately run my fingers down the line of hair that begins at his navel and gently slip my finger just under the waist of his trousers. "What happened to needing to leave?"

"Do you want me to?" I tease, my laugh that follows at his quick reaction to kiss me harder swallowed by his mouth.

"I wouldn't let you go just yet anyway," he mutters, punctuating his words with a kiss to my neck where my pulse is thrumming frantically.

I tilt my head back, ignoring the unyielding surface of the table, encouraging his exploration of my collarbone. "You forget who the brains of this pairing is. I could escape if I want-" I tapper off as Chrom abruptly lifts my camisole and runs his tongue over my stomach. His fingers move to the back of my knees beneath my trousers and I gasp. Gods, that feels good.

"You were say-"

His voice lodges in his throat and his smirk vanishes as I grab the hem of my top and throw it to the accumulating collection of discarded clothes. Holding his eyes, I reach my arms behind my head and stretch my body out before raising a brow.

I don't even get the chance to give any rebuttal. Drawing on the speed only he seems capable of, I'm off the table and held in his arms with my breasts pushed tightly against his chest.

"And you forget who the stronger of us is," Chrom remarks, grinning.

I smirk back at him, bringing my mouth to his ear and running my tongue over it before breathing gently on the rim. "Yeah well, we'll see how strong you are when I get you pant-" My sentence cuts off then, only this time, it's not a result of Chrom's actions.

"Yo, Chrom, you should have _seen_ how much Nowi can drink! For a kid that girl sure can- Uhh. Ah huh. Looks like someone's took my advice."

I've completely frozen, stuck staring at the grin so large, it has Vaike's face almost splitting from glee. I can't even begin to think of anything remotely acceptable to say, much less go about actually saying it. Chrom too is no help either, his head turned towards his friend whilst he keeps me partially covered by holding me close.

"If this could maybe just stay between us…" Chrom begins and freezes in horror when a second, younger and decidedly chipper voice pitches in.

"Hey Vaike! What you standing there like a doofus for? Chrom's in there isn't here?"

Lissa's voice is the signal I need for my limbs to function. Dropping my feet to the ground and free from Chrom's arms, no care given for what Vaike will see, I hastily begin to throw my shirt on, my movements sluggish with panic.

Vaike chuckles and giving a wink, makes his retreat as quick as his appearance. I look to Chrom and he just looks back. I'd wager his thoughts echo mine; this is only the tempest preluding the storm.

The axe-wielders footsteps begin to vanish and we wait cautiously. The intake of breath is taken, ready to be released in a sigh of relief when we hear his cheerful voice rise.

"He's in there alright, but I'd leave him alone if I was ya, Lissa." He guffaws and I wonder if Chrom and I's being partners in crime means I'm granted the pleasure of murdering Vaike. The axe-wielder continues, and I can picture his grin far too easily.

"I've got the feeling him gettin' up in the morn is gonna be the second hardest thing."

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**Thank you all for reading and by Jove was that a lengthy read! Any words - even a couple - are always greatly appreciated. Many thanks!**


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